The Price of Saving a Life
by Inspirement
Summary: Harry learns that saving Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets had much greater consequences than he could ever imagine. NOTE: Soul-Bond content inside. *THIS STORY IS STILL BEING WORKED ON BUT IT'S GOING SLOW*
1. An Unexpected Birthday Gift

_**A/N:** This is my attempt at a Soul-Bond story. I love the genre, but sometimes I have encountered stuff that made me think, 'if I wrote this, I would do it totally different'. Well, this is it. This is how a Soul-Bond would work if I could decide._

_Yes, I have basically copied the letters from the books, and only made small adjustments to fit my story. There was really no way I could make the letters better, even though I tried, so there it is. Hope you understand._

**Chapter One**

**An Unexpected  
Birthday Gift**

On the morning of July 29'th 1993, Harry woke up feeling unusually tired. He looked at the clock on his bedside table and groaned. It was half past six, and in an hour his Uncle Vernon would arrive in the kitchen, expecting breakfast. Usually, this didn't bother Harry. He had long since got used to making breakfast for his aunt and uncle, but today he was just too tired to care. He felt like he hadn't slept at all. He rolled over and buried his face in his pillows. He was asleep in less than a minute.

When Harry woke again, it was to the sound of his bedroom door slamming open so violently that the door handle made a hole where it struck the wall.

"BOY!" bellowed Uncle Vernon from the doorway. Harry knew without looking at him that he was purple in the face. He had probably been yelling from the bottom of the stairs for quite some time.

Harry couldn't have made breakfast even if he had wanted to. He still felt like he had been fed some kind of powerful sleeping draught, and as if that wasn't enough, he also felt the beginning of a headache–which wasn't improved by his uncle screaming at him about doing one's share of the work in the household and himself having to go to work hungry.

_As if you would go hungry for long with that bakery across the street from your office,_ Harry thought. He had heard enough stories about that place, since Vernon's third favourite thing to do, next after complaining about Harry and stuffing his face, was talking about food.

He briefly contemplated telling his uncle that he didn't feel up to doing any kind of work today, but decided that it wouldn't make any difference. Uncle Vernon wouldn't believe him anyway.

"Why are you just lying there, boy? Get to work!" Vernon barked as he crossed the room to Harry's bed. Harry braced himself for the inevitable.

Vernon grabbed Harry's arm and forced him up into a sitting position. Harry felt a wave of nausea wash over him and he clapped a hand over his mouth, resisting the urge to throw up, but before anyone really had the time to react, Harry had covered his uncle's best suit with yesterday's dinner.

Vernon backed away quickly as Harry deposited more half-digested food onto his bed. The last thing he was aware of before passing out was his uncle swearing that, after he had found another suit, he wouldn't rest until he had his revenge.

The next time Harry came to, his room was bathed in sunlight. The clock on his bedside table told him that it was just before noon.

Harry noticed that he didn't feel as tired anymore. His headache had gotten worse though, and when he tried to sit up, the world began to spin. Luckily, it wasn't as bad as that morning, and he managed to keep his food where it belonged.

That's when he noticed that his bedclothes were still stained with the evidence of his earlier sickness. Evidently, no one had cared enough to do anything about it, which meant that he would have to muster the strength to do it himself.

Harry forced himself to get up and began to change the bedclothes, all the while cursing the _Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery,_ which was unreasonably restricting him from using a spell to dull the pain in his head. Therefore, despite his well-known dislike of potions, Harry had an urge to take out his potions kit and cauldron and attempt to brew a pain-relieving potion. He didn't care that they wouldn't learn it until fourth year; his headache was so intense, and he was sure that he had seen the recipe in there somewhere. Unfortunately, he didn't think he could do it without the Dursleys noticing anything.

When he was done changing the sheets, he made his way to the bathroom and brushed his teeth to get the taste of vomit out of his mouth. After some rummaging in the cabinet, he also found some Muggle pain pills. They weren't as effective as a potion, nor did they act as quickly, but they would have to do.

He then made his way slowly down to the kitchen, hoping to find something to eat. He didn't really have an appetite, but he knew from experience that not eating would only make him feel worse in the end. He could hear the television in the living room, but if his Aunt Petunia had heard him coming down the stairs, she ignored him. This suited Harry just fine.

He dug out some bread from the pantry and proceeded to make himself a sandwich, as he neither had the will to prepare nor the stomach to process anything heavier right then. When he had finished eating, he returned to his room and sat down on the bed, putting his head in his hands, wondering what was happening to him. Yesterday he had been fine, and then today he was suddenly more sick than he could ever remember being. Weren't these things supposed to happen gradually?

He closed his eyes and tried to remember if he had eaten anything unusual lately, but couldn't think of anything.

He lay back on the bed, waiting for the pain pills to start working, but despite the fact that he was still exhausted, the throbbing in his head prevented him from getting any real rest.

Eventually, he resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't sleep anytime soon and grabbed the nearest book he could reach: _Quidditch Through the Ages._ It had been a thank-you gift from Fred and George for saving their sister from the Chamber of Secrets two months ago.

He had just skimmed through a chapter called _Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland,_ when he heard the front door open and close, followed by his Cousin Dudley's impatient voice yelling, "Mom! I'm hungry!"

To Harry's immediate dislike, this was followed by Dudley's friend Piers Polkiss exclaiming, "Do you have anything left of your excellent treacle tart?"

Harry had always been slightly surprised by his aunt's blindness when it came to her son and his friends. Her usually being so perceptive about everything else, totally missed the evidence of her son being anything less than the innocent boy he made himself out to be in front of his parents.

Harry knew better though. He had seen Dudley's gang tormenting other kids enough, and had been the victim of said activity more than he could remember. He had even seen them hiding in a clump of bushes behind the supermarket once, smoking cigarettes. Needless to say, Harry didn't like Dudley's gang one bit.

He closed his book and rolled over on his back. Hearing Dudley with his friends made Harry miss his own friends: Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

He had exchanged a few letters with Ron during the month they had been home for their summer holidays, but since Harry's uncle didn't approve of owl post–or anything magical for that matter–he couldn't be seen sending too many letters.

The funniest attempt of communication from the Wizarding world however, had been when Ron had attempted to make a telephone call.

It had been quite the scene when Uncle Vernon answered the phone, only to have Ron yelling in his ear. At the time, Harry had felt sorry for his best mate, but looking back, it had been rather funny.

Now being in a much better mood, Harry decided that he ought to write a letter to his best mate. The pain pills had started to work and he felt a little better.

He reached over to his desk drawer and pulled out a piece of parchment, an eagle feather quill and a bottle of ink and started writing.

He told Ron all about the Dursleys' latest campaign to make him feel worthless and asked him–for the fourth time–if he could come to the Burrow. Ron had been quite vague on the subject, but Harry didn't know why. When he was done, he gave the letter to his owl, Hedwig, and sent her off.

The next day went by in a haze of tiredness and sickness, but on the day after that–the day that happened to be his birthday–Harry felt much better. He was still a little tired and he still had a headache, but today it was at least manageable.

He went up to his room after breakfast to find three owls sitting on his desk. He recognized two of them immediately. One was his own Hedwig: a beautiful snowy owl, who he had got from the Hogwarts gamekeeper on his eleventh birthday. The other one was the Weasley family owl, Errol, who was very old and extremely clumsy. The third owl, Harry didn't recognize, but from the Hogwarts crest on the letter it was carrying, it wasn't hard to guess where it had come from. Harry took the Hogwarts letter and a badly wrapped package from its beak and the owl jumped out through Harry's bedroom window and took off.

Harry turned and took the package Errol was carrying. As he had guessed, it was from Ron.

He ripped it open and discovered two things. A gold wrapped present and an envelope.

He opened the envelope first and two pieces of paper fell out: a letter and a newspaper clipping. The clipping featured a moving black-and-white photo of the Weasley family standing in front of a large pyramid. There was an article printed underneath it.

**MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE**

_Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw._

_A delighted Mr Weasley told the Daily Prophet, "We will be spending the gold on a summer holiday in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works as a curse breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank."_

_The Weasley family will be spending a month in Egypt, returning for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley children currently attend._

Harry looked at the photo again and his heart constricted in happiness for the Weasleys. If anyone deserved to win a large pile of gold, they did. They were the nicest people Harry had ever met. They had basically taken him in as one of their own when he visited them for the last part of the summer holidays the previous year. They were also a rather large family, so most of their money was used on the household and not much was left for spending on pleasure. Yes, the Weasleys certainly deserved it.

Harry put the newspaper clipping down and picked up Ron's letter.

_Dear Harry_

_Happy birthday! _

_Egypt was brilliant! Bill showed us around all the tombs and you wouldn't believe the curses those old Egyptian wizards put on them. Mum wouldn't let Ginny come in the last one. There were all these mutant skeletons in there, of Muggles who'd broken in and grown extra heads and stuff. _

_Unfortunately, Ginny got really sick a few days ago and we had to cut our vacation short. I don't know what's going on, but it seems really serious, because I overheard mum and dad talking about contacting Dumbledore. I hope she'll be okay. _

_I asked mum about letting you come here, but she said she had to talk to Dumbledore about it. I don't know why, but I'll let you know when I have an answer. _

_Don't let the Muggles get you down! _

_P.S. Percy's Head Boy. He got the letter last week._

Harry glanced at the photograph again and, sure enough, there was a polished Head Boy badge pinned on his robes, gleaming in the stark Egyptian sun.

He turned to Ron's present and unwrapped it eagerly. Inside was what looked like a small glass spinning top with a note attached to it with spell-o-tape.

_Harry–this is a Pocket Sneakoscope. If there's someone untrustworthy around, it's supposed to light up and spin. Bill says it's rubbish sold for wizard tourists and isn't reliable, because it kept lighting up at dinner last night. But he didn't realize Fred and George had put beetles in his soup. _

_Bye–Ron_

Harry picked up the Sneakoscope and put it on his desk. It stood there silently, balancing on its tip. He poked it with his finger, causing it to wobble, but it never fell over.

As he reached for the parcel Hedwig had now dropped on the desk, he thought absentmindedly that a Sneakoscope would have been handy in his first year at Hogwarts, since the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor had been walking around with Voldemort on the back of his head. That would certainly count as untrustworthy.

Inside this package too, there was a wrapped present, a card and a letter. This time from Hermione.

_Dear Harry,_

_Ron wrote to me and told me about his phone call to your Uncle Vernon. I do hope you're all right._

_I'm on holiday in France at the moment and I didn't know how I was going to send this to you–what if they'd opened it at customs?–but then Hedwig turned up! I think she wanted to make sure you got something for your birthday for a change. I bought your present by owl-order; there was an advertisement in the Daily Prophet (I've been getting it delivered; it's so good to keep up with what's going on in the Wizarding world). Did you see that picture of Ron and his family a week ago? I bet he's learning loads. I'm really jealous–the ancient Egyptian wizards were fascinating._

_There's some interesting local history of witchcraft here, too. I've rewritten my whole History of Magic essay to include some of the things I've found out, I hope it's not too long–it's two rolls of parchment more than Professor Binns asked for._

_Ron says he's going to be in London in the last week of the holidays. Can you make it? Will your aunt and uncle let you come? I really hope you can. If not, I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express on September first!_

_Love from Hermione _

_P.S. Ron says Percy's Head Boy. I'll bet Percy's really pleased. Ron doesn't seem too happy about it._

Harry laughed and put the letter aside. Only Hermione would rewrite a whole essay just to reflect the location she happened to be in, but that was one of the things he liked about her. She was very dedicated to what she did and sought to excel at whatever project she was working on–be it an essay for school or helping him solve whatever mystery they were currently involved with. The only problem was that she actively tried to make him and Ron follow in her footsteps, which was something neither of them had the ability to do.

He picked up Hermione's present and began peeling off the wrapping paper. His first impression was that she had given him a book. It wouldn't have been the first time it happened, and she had a well-deserved reputation for being quite obsessed with them. His suspicions were strengthened when black leather started to show underneath. When the top was uncovered though, he was pleasantly surprised. It wasn't a book after all: it was something much better.

On a sleek black leather case was a bronze plaque with words stamped in shining silver lettering.

**BROOMSTIC SERVICING KIT**

"Wow, Hermione," he whispered to the empty room as he undid the clasps and opened the leather clad wooden box.

Inside was every tool you could imagine for broomcare and service. Bottles of _Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish_, silver Tail-Twig Clippers, a brass clip-on compass for long-distance flying, and a _Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare._

Resisting the urge to try it all out at once, he closed the lid and picked up the last parcel, which had been delivered by the Hogwarts owl. He ripped it open and picked up the card first. He recognized the untidy scrawl at once as belonging to Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper.

_Dear Harry, _

_Happy Birthday! _

_Think you might find this useful for next year._

_Won't say no more here. Tell you when I see you. _

_Hope the Muggles are treating you right. _

_All the best, _

_Hagrid_

Intrigued, Harry started to rip the paper off the present. The moment he had removed the unusually thick ribbon however, it sprang open by itself and immediately snapped at his fingers, startling him and making him drop it. He barely glimpsed something poison-green and leathery slip under his bed.

Harry leapt onto the bed and lay down on his stomach, lowering his head over the edge to look underneath. He saw something flat and edgy coming his way and he pulled back fast when the thing came back out in the open. Harry was surprised to see that it was a book.

He threw himself on top of it and flattened it against the floor; then he grabbed the nearest pillow and emptied the pillowcase, stuffing the book into it and tying it tightly. He briefly saw the words _The Monster Book of Monsters_ stamped on the cover. Harry couldn't help but think that it was an appropriate name for it.

The only thing left now was the Hogwarts letter, but since Harry was rather tired from the fight with the book and his headache had started to increase as a result, he laid back on the bed for a quick nap.

An hour later, according to his alarm clock, Harry was awaken by his uncle yelling from the bottom of the stairs.

"BOY! COME DOWN HERE AT ONCE!"

_What does he want now?_ Harry groaned groggily, but wanting to avoid a repeat of the scene of two days ago, he dutifully got up and walked downstairs.

As he entered the living room, all traces of sleepiness disappeared immediately. There–sitting on the Dursleys' sofa, looking quite out of place–were the four people he least expected to see.

On the side closest to the door, his long white beard curling in his lap and his intricately decorated Wizard's robes looking even more eccentric than usual by contrast of the Dursleys' clean living room, was Dumbledore. Next to him sat Mr Weasley, his eyes flicking between the television set and the telephone as if he couldn't decide which to get his hands on first to take it apart and see how it worked.

Beside him sat Mrs Weasley, a plump woman with a usually kind face, though today the only emotions it showed were worry and fear. The most unexpected visitor though, was sitting on the side farthest away from him. Ron's sister. Ginny–the youngest of the Weasleys–was twisting her hands and avoided everyone's gaze. She looked more nervous than he had ever seen her before.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said, "Please, take a seat." The old man waved his wand casually, producing three comfortable looking armchairs. "This concerns you as well, Mr and Mrs Dursley," he continued, gesturing to the seats.

Harry sat down in one of the chairs, facing the others. At a look from Vernon, Petunia disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two of the kitchen chairs. Dumbledore waved his wand again and the conjured armchairs vanished again.

"Now, Mr Dursley," Dumbledore began as the Dursleys had taken their seats, "Where is your son?"

"What's it to you?" Vernon barked back.

"I simply want to know that he won't hear this conversation," Dumbledore replied calmly.

"He's at a friend's house," Vernon grunted, "Which reminds me," he continued, "I'll have to pick up Marge at the station in ten minutes, so you'll have to do this quickly."

Harry cursed inwardly. Aunt Marge, who was Vernon's sister, shared the title of _Harry's least favourite person in the world_ with Draco Malfoy. Her coming to stay over would undoubtedly be the worst birthday present they had given him yet.

"Arrangements have been made for your sister to arrive at this time tomorrow. We have all the time we need," Dumbledore said, and Harry swore he could see the old man's eyes twinkle.

"What have you done to her?" Vernon growled threateningly.

"Nothing," said Dumbledore. "If you have to know, the train she was supposed to take unexpectedly stopped working, and no replacement trains seem to be available for some reason. I think quite a few trains have broken down today. Must be an epidemic," he added merrily. Harry knew enough about the old man to be sure that he was well aware of the fact that there was no such thing as a 'train epidemic', but the Dursleys' didn't. Indeed, Uncle Vernon's moustache twitched as the man's fury level steadily rose. Harry just leaned back in the cosy armchair as the men stared into each other's faces. If it came to a fight, Harry had no doubt who would come out on as the winner.

"Fine," spat Uncle Vernon venomously after a couple of minutes' silent battle of wills. "Now what is this all about?"

"Before we begin," said Dumbledore, turning away from Vernon, addressing the rest of the people in the room, "I need to impress upon you the gravity of what we are to discuss today. What is said here is to be treated as classified information. You are not to breathe a word about it to anyone," he looked pointedly at Mrs Weasley, "Not even to your sons."

Dumbledore looked around the room and everyone nodded their consent, even the Dursleys, although reluctantly.

"Now, Mr Dursley, what do you know about what happened at the end of Harry's last school year?"

"Why should I know anything about it?" asked Uncle Vernon.

"Because the consequences of those events will affect you," Dumbledore replied mystically.

As the Dursleys were briefed on the incident in the Chamber of Secrets, Harry noticed that Ginny seemed to get more and more agitated. He didn't blame her. Being possessed by the spirit of Voldemort for a year must have been a traumatic experience. He could almost feel the guilt and shame radiating out of her, and had a sudden urge to walk over and comfort her...

"But if Harry saved this girl–Minnie or whatever her name is–how could this possibly concern us?" Vernon interjected when Dumbledore was finished. Harry noticed Mrs Weasley shooting Vernon a disgusted look when he got her daughter's name wrong.

"Well, you see, Mr Dursley, when one wizard saves another's life, a magical bond known as a _life debt_ is formed," said Dumbledore. "Under normal circumstances, this bond requires the person being saved to repay the debt, should an opportunity arise. It is my belief however, that in the case of Mr Potter and Miss Weasley, this life debt is in fact fuelling another–much stronger–bond. Tell me, do you believe in the human soul, Mr Dursley?"

Uncle Vernon looked at Dumbledore for a few minutes, and then said, "No."

"I assure you that it's quite real," Dumbledore said. "The soul is your sense of self. It allows you to interact with the world around you and think for yourself. The body can survive without the soul, but you would basically be–as the Muggle term so elegantly puts it–a vegetable," Dumbledore said.

"That's all very well, Dumbledore," said Mrs Weasley, now slightly hysterically, "But what does all this have to do with my daughter?"

Instead of answering the question, Dumbledore turned to Ginny.

"Miss Weasley, may I ask how you feel physically at this moment?"

Ginny looked up and said timidly, "I-I'm fine, s-sir."

"And Mr Potter, how do you feel?" Dumbledore continued.

"I'm fine too, sir," he replied.

"And how did you feel a few days ago?" Dumbledore prompted, and at that moment Harry realized that he really was fine–all traces of his earlier headache, tiredness and sickness were gone.

"I was rather sick, sir," Harry replied truthfully, glancing at Vernon, who was getting a mad glint in his eye. He had evidently not forgotten the _suit incident_ either.

"Yes, I thought you might have been," said Dumbledore. "You see, dear Molly, it is my belief that Mr Potter and your daughter have entered a soul-bond–"

"But how?" Mrs Weasley interjected. "I thought that was only myth and legend!"

"I'm afraid it's not," said Dumbledore. "There are no known ways to test if a bond has indeed been formed, but its effects are quite well documented if you know where to look. That's why I asked you to inform me if there were any sudden changes in your daughter's health. You see, the initial stages of bonding require the persons involved to be physically close to each other, else they fall ill. The fact that bringing them both together cured both their illnesses only confirms my suspicions. I'm sure you all see the complications of this situation."

Harry was stunned. He shared a soul-bond? With Ginny? He had so many questions he wanted to ask. How did it happen? Why? What does it even mean to be soul-bonded with someone, and what were the complications Dumbledore was talking about? He decided to voice this last question first.

"Sir, what do you mean with 'complication'? If Ginny and I have to be close to each other, doesn't that mean that I can live with the Weasleys for the rest of the summer?" he said hopefully.

"I'm afraid not, Harry," Dumbledore replied sadly. "You see, when your mother chose to die to save you, she invoked three layers of magical protection for you. The first two you already know–they were the ones to make the killing curse rebound upon Voldemort–" The Weasleys flinched "–and preventing Quirrell from touching you.

"The third layer is in the form of a blood-ward. It will keep you safe wherever your mother's blood dwells–in this case," he glanced at Petunia, "with her sister."

"Okay, fine. How long do I have to stay," Harry began, but then he understood exactly what Dumbledore had talked about when he mentioned a complication. "NO!" he said firmly, "Absolutely not. Ginny is _not_ staying here; no way!"

"You can't mean that, Dumbledore," Mrs Weasley interrupted them all. "Ginny... live with these Muggles? I won't have it," she said. "I don't trust them."

Harry, who silently agreed, looked at Ginny. She had yet to say a thing about what she thought about all this. She looked up at him and blushed. She seemed to understand his silent question though.

"Well," she began, "I wouldn't mind staying here–I mean, it's not like we have any choice, is it?" she said timidly, not meeting his eyes.

"Believe me, you don't want to stay here," said Harry, completely disregarding the fact that his aunt and uncle were sitting right beside him.

"I'm afraid Miss Weasley is right, Harry," said Dumbledore. "We simply have no alternatives. You won't have to stay here all summer, though. I think two weeks will suffice."

"Now wait just one moment!" Uncle Vernon barked out. "Don't we get a say in this? I won't have another one of _your kind_ in my house!"

"You see?" Mrs Weasley shot in, "I'm not leaving my baby in the care of people with this old-fashioned attitude!"

"Old-fashioned?" yelled Vernon, leaning forward threateningly, "Who are you to speak of old-fashioned? Look at what you are wearing! You look practically medieval, all of you!"

"Don't talk to my wife that way!" Mr Weasley exclaimed, drawing his wand and pointing it at Vernon, who recoiled as if he was facing the barrel of a gun instead of a stick of wood.

"Get that thing away from me!" Vernon shouted hysterically, sitting back in his chair so fast that Harry was surprised it didn't tip over backwards.

Harry glanced at Ginny, who had assumed a position that made her look like a little ball with bright red hair. She was ashamed that her foolish trust in the diary had led to the bond forming, and ultimately the loud shouting match between her parents and Harry's guardians. How Harry knew this, he didn't know, but he was sure it was true.

He wondered if there was any way that he could stay at the Weasleys anyway. Perhaps if they put up better protection around the Burrow…

Suddenly there was a loud bang, some startled shrieks and a bright flash of light, and everything went quiet. When the spots in Harry's eyes had disappeared, he saw Dumbledore standing in the middle of the room, his wand drawn. The other adults were rubbing their eyes and ears.

"Now that I have your attention, how about we discuss this in a civil tone and avoid personal insults?" Dumbledore suggested.

Before anyone had any chance to say anything else, Harry took his chance to ask the Headmaster about his idea.

"Sir, couldn't you just put up better protection at the Burrow?" he asked, "so I could stay there instead?"

"No, I'm sorry Harry, but no matter what I did, it still would not be as effective as the blood-wards here. In order to simulate this ward at The Burrow, I would have to use the Fidelius charm, as well as anti-Apparition wards, Unplottable charms and many more. I dare say that would interfere with the Weasleys' way of life a little too much." Dumbledore looked at Molly, who frowned, but nodded.

"What if we were to check in on them regularly?" asked Mr Weasley, eyeing his wife to gauge her reaction. "And if there are any signs of mistreatment, we'll take them straight home to the Burrow, blood-wards or not."

"And I want nightly reports by owl," added Mrs Weasley.

Dumbledore nodded. "That's understandable," he said. Then he looked at the Dursleys.

"Oh, do we get a say in this?" Uncle Vernon grunted sarcastically. "I don't want any of them here," he stated, not making any attempt to hide his distaste.

"Oh, I think you may find that you will, Mr Dursley," said Dumbledore. "As I have explained, there's really no other way, and if _you_ kick any of them out, some very interesting things might happen."

"Are you threatening me, old man?" growled Uncle Vernon.

"Oh no, not at all," said Dumbledore, and Harry could almost swear that his Headmaster was smiling. "I'm merely pointing out some facts," he continued. "You see, when you took Harry in, you made a binding magical oath to let him stay with you until he is of age, which is when the blood-wards will break. Since Harry is now bonded to Miss Weasley, denying her to stay here would in fact be a violation of that same oath–and you have to understand that nothing good has ever come from breaking a magical oath."

Uncle Vernon got beet red in the face, but seemed to understand that Dumbledore was not a man to cross, so instead of arguing, he stalked out of the room grunting, "Fine, the girl can stay, but I'll keep my eyes on her, mark my words." Aunt Petunia followed him out a few seconds later.

"Good, then that's settled," said Dumbledore. Harry couldn't remember when he had agreed to this, but then again, he couldn't remember agreeing to much today. The best thing to do would be to make the most of the situation. On the upside, he wouldn't be alone with the Dursleys anymore, but on the other hand, the person he would be spending time with was Ron's shy little sister, who had barely said three words to him despite him staying with her family for a month last year. But since they were now soul-bonded, he thought that perhaps he should pay more attention to her.

"Sir, exactly what does it mean to be soul-bonded to someone?" Harry asked.

"That is a very good question, Harry," answered Dumbledore. "Since the last persons to share a soul-bond died almost a century ago, there is no one who can tell you. Records show however that the most common side effects include shared feelings and the ability to instantly locate their bond mate."

"Wow," said Harry. That sounded like some really cool powers to have.

"Now if you'll excuse me, Arthur, Molly, I would like some time to talk to Harry and Ginny in private," Dumbledore said.

"Of course," said Mrs Weasley, still looking a little put out, "We'll be just outside."

When the elder Weasleys had left, Dumbledore turned back to Harry and Ginny.

"Now, I know what you're thinking–you can't wait for this bond to take effect, and you might think that it's all just some new powers–but I want to warn you right now that it's not; at least not all of the time. This bond will–in time–mean a complete loss of privacy between the two of you. There are reports of instances where the bond mates managed to dampen their connection, but even then it was only for short periods of time. Most of the time, you will know almost everything about what the other is feeling, doing and sometimes even thinking at any given moment."

Harry looked at Ginny, and suddenly he didn't feel at all so at ease with this soul-bond thing. In fact, it was starting to scare him a little; and from the look on Ginny's face, he could tell that it was scaring her too. Again, he felt the urge to comfort her, but before he could move, Dumbledore began speaking again.

"Sharing a soul-bond is not something you should take lightly. I know you didn't ask for this to happen, but that just makes it even more important to try and make this work.

"I wish I could give you more advice, but the only thing I can say for sure is that you should care for each other like you would care for yourselves. After all, if one of you is unhappy, you will both be unhappy."

"I Apparated home and picked up your trunk," Mr Weasley told Ginny when they went out into the hallway ten minutes later.

Mrs Weasley immediately leapt forward and enveloped Ginny in a tight hug, whispering things in her ear that Harry couldn't hear. She then turned to the boy and gave him a crushing hug too.

"If they do or say anything, promise you'll owl me," she said through barely held back tears. "And look after my baby," she added.

Harry felt a little awkward. That was usually a request made to an adult supervisor, but Harry supposed that, as he was the only person that she trusted who would be there, the task to ensure Ginny's safety came to rest on his shoulders. "I will," he whispered back.

When Dumbledore and the Weasleys had left, Harry picked up Ginny's trunk, and pulled it towards the stairs–Ginny followed closely behind him.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Harry turned towards the door opposite his own and showed Ginny inside.

"Here's the guest room. I guess this is where you'll sleep," Harry said as he placed the trunk at the foot of the bed.

The room was–like everything in the Dursley household–spotless. Aunt Petunia came up to tidy this room at least once a week just _'in case we would ever have important guests'._ As far as Harry could remember though, Ginny was actually the first guest who was not family to ever use this room; something Harry found both ironic and satisfying. Dudley never had any friends sleeping over. He claimed that slumber parties were for 'nerds and girls'.

Harry went and sat down on the chair by the desk. He looked around at the sparsely furnished room. On the wall opposite the desk was an empty bookcase, and along one wall was the bed. The remaining wall held the door and a wardrobe. The little floor that was left in the middle was completely empty.

Harry felt quite reluctant to leave her yet, so he asked her if she needed help to unpack some things.

"Sure," she said, smiling at him shyly.

They worked in silence, and soon Ginny's few belongings were unpacked. Her schoolbooks were on the bookshelf, a stack of parchment, a few quills and some bottles of ink were on the desk and a photo of her family stood on the bedside table. They had decided to keep her clothes in her trunk.

When they were done, Harry sat down on the desk chair again and Ginny sat on the bed.

"So," said Harry after a minute of uncomfortable silence. "We're soul-bound."

"Yeah," Ginny answered. She had folded her hands in her lap again and avoided looking at him.

"It's not your fault you know," Harry said. Ginny nodded but didn't say anything, so he decided to try something else.

"So," he said again, mentally cringing at how he was repeating himself. "How much do you know about soul-bonds?"

"No more than you do, I guess," she said. "Like Mum, I thought they were just myth. I only know what Dumbledore told us."

She looked up at him, and Harry was startled to see her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Harry," she whispered. "What if we can't handle this bond? What if we end up hating each other?"

Again, Harry was overcome with the urge to comfort her, and this time he didn't fight it. He walked over to the bed and sat down beside her. He reached out to take her hand, but just as their skin touched, a jolt of static electricity shot through his arm, making him snatch his hand back. They looked at each other wide eyed for a second before Ginny held out her hand again, inviting him to make another try.

This time, nothing happened, and Harry held her hand tightly.

"We'll be okay," he said. "Somehow, we'll get through this."

Harry felt his own eyes start to tear up, and suddenly he wasn't as sure of what he had just said. He felt a sort of hopelessness washing over him suddenly. Perhaps they _wouldn't_ make it? Perhaps they _would_ grow to despise each other?

Harry looked at Ginny, and the tears were now slowly trickling down her cheeks.

"Sorry," he muttered, letting go of her hand, and immediately, the feeling of helplessness stopped. He dried his eyes and looked at her hand.

"What just-" he began, but then Dumbledore's earlier words echoed in his head: _the most common side effects include shared feelings…_

Was that what had happened? Had he felt Ginny's feelings? Had it begun already? It was the only explanation that made sense.

He looked at Ginny again. She looked at him confusedly, and Harry realized that he had been staring at the wall with his jaw open. He closed it and composed himself.

"May I try something?" he asked.

Ginny hesitated a little, but then said, "Yes."

Harry summoned all the good feelings he could–which were depressingly few–and took Ginny's hand again. Her eyes widened as the good feelings flowed into her. Then she smiled at him weakly and looked away again.

"Thanks," she muttered, not looking up from her shoes. She pulled her hand free, and Harry could see her shoulders sag a bit.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked.

"It's nothing," she said. "It's stupid."

"It's _not_ nothing," said Harry. "I can feel something's bothering you, and we might as well be honest with each other."

"I don't want to talk about it right now," she said. "I think I need a few minutes for myself to think about things, if you don't mind."

Harry wanted to argue with her and make her tell him what was wrong, but Dumbledore had warned them about trying to be on good terms, so he reluctantly rose from the bed.

"If you need me, my room is just across the hall," he said.

"Okay," she muttered.

He hoped that she'd be okay. He couldn't imagine how this affected her emotionally, given that she–according to Ron at least–had a crush on him.

He entered his room and sat down on his bed. Suddenly, the weight of everything he had learned that morning came crashing down on him.

Somehow, he had entered a soul-bond with no one else than Ginny Weasley–his best mate's sister–who had a crush on him. Then another thought hit him: if they were soul-bonded, did that mean that Ginny was his soulmate?

There were so many questions he wanted answered. The biggest question of all was what this meant for their future. If this bond would really grow as strong as Dumbledore said it would, Harry thought that calling it a _complication_ was something of an understatement.

He looked toward his desk and his eyes fell on the birthday cards. He went over and picked them up, arranging them on the shelf above his desk.

He thought of his friends, Ron and Hermione. Dumbledore had told him and Ginny to keep the bond a secret, but he wondered if they would be able to keep it from them for long. Hermione was very perceptive, and would probably figure it out sooner or later, no matter how hard they tried; and Ron was bound to ask questions about why Ginny was staying with him.

On the other hand, he wanted them to know; at least Ron. He might not take the fact that Harry shared a soul-bond with his sister very well.

Finally deciding that whatever happened would happen, and that he'd deal with it when it did, he looked around the room to find something to do. His eyes fell on the Broomstick Servicing Kit.

Harry took out his Nimbus 2000 from the closet and opened the servicing kit to retrieve the Handbook on Do-It-Yourself Broomcare; he opened Chapter One.

**Harold Waterbury's Handbook  
on Do-It-Yourself Broomcare**

**Chapter One: The Importance of Having a Clean  
Broomhandle.**

_The most common of the many things most broom riders overlook when it comes to their performance on the broomstick is to keep the Broomhandle clean._

Harry felt a little sceptic as to what a clean Broomhandle might do to increase his broom riding; at most he thought it might make his broom look better, but he decided to keep reading anyway.

_The handle is the most important part of the broomstick, since it controls the direction and acceleration charms. If your handle is covered in dirt, your hands won't achieve the optimal amount of contact necessary to accurately control your broom in more complex manoeuvres. This is also the reason why using gloves not specifically designed for usage with a broom is strongly discouraged (to learn more about gloves and the part they play in increasing the lifespan of your broom, see chapter five). _

_If your broom is very dirty, the first thing you should do is remove all dirt and loose particles with a suitable scouring charm._

Harry looked at his broom and noticed that it was indeed quite dirty. Since he was underage and couldn't use his wand, he decided a simple rag would have to do.

He went downstairs to Aunt Petunia's cleaning cupboard and grabbed an old used rag and proceeded to wet it under the bathroom tap.

When he returned to his room, he gently wiped the dust and grime off his broom and returned to the book for instructions on how to apply the polish.

He spent a good two hours on polishing his Broomhandle and trimming the tail twigs.

He had just clipped the final twig to the correct length and deemed the tail smooth when there was a small knock on his door.

"Come in," he called, and the door opened to reveal a red-faced Ginny. He could tell that she had been crying, but she seemed more relaxed and a little happier than before, so he decided not to mention it.

"Hey," he said. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah," she answered. "That's a beautiful broom you've got."

"Thanks," Harry answered.

There was an awkward silence again.

"You don't have to stand there, you know," Harry said finally.

"Right," she said. She closed the door behind her and sat down on the floor opposite him.

"You could try her some time if you want," Harry said. "The broom I mean."

"Really?" she asked.

"Sure," he said.

"That's very nice of you, Harry," she said. "Thanks." She gave him a genuine smile.

"You're welcome," he said, giving a smile back, making her blush and look down at her lap.

"Ginny?" he asked.

"Yes?" she replied.

"Do you-I mean, are you sure you're okay?"

"As good as I can be, considering the circumstances," she said.

"Good," he said. "I mean, I know this can't be easy for you–hell, it's not easy for me–but I think it is worse for you."

"Oh yeah? What makes you think that?" she asked, suddenly on the defensive.

"Well, Ron mentioned-"

"Ron?" she interrupted. "Tell me, what did my _dear_ brother say about me?"

Harry immediately regretted saying anything about Ron.

"Well, it's nothing, really," he said, repeating Ginny's earlier words.

"If my brother said something about me, I have a right to know it," she argued, folding her arms across her chest.

Harry recognized the trademark Weasley "I'm not backing down" stance, and knew that he was in trouble.

"He-he sort of mentioned something about you having a little crush on me." This time it was Harry's turn to look down at his lap. When he heard a sniff, he looked up again and was startled to see that Ginny had tears running wildly down her cheeks. Her face wasn't sad though–it was angry.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Ginny didn't reply. Instead, she shot up and stalked towards the door, fists clenched and muttering, "I'll kill him, I'll kill Ron."

Before Harry had the time to do anything, she had already left the room and slammed the door shut.

_Well, that went well,_ he thought. _It's not even been a day and she's already mad at me._

He repacked his Broomstick Servicing Kit and put it together with his broom, which didn't seem to look at all as good as it had mere moments ago.

Just then Uncle Vernon called from the foot of the stairs that lunch was ready.

Before he went down, he stopped by Ginny's door, but when he didn't get a reply after a few minutes of knocking, he went down by himself.

Dinner was a rather quiet affair. The Dursleys didn't mention Ginny's absence. Harry guessed that they were happy to have one less unwanted dinner guest.

When he had eaten his helping, Harry decided to take a walk outside to clear his head.

It was a beautiful summer's day, and the sky was clear blue. Harry went to the park and sat down under an old oak tree. He leaned against the thick trunk and closed his eyes, soaking up the sun.

He tried to relax, but there was a faint buzzing in this head and a slight pressure on his temples. He must be too far away from Ginny.

He did his best to ignore it, and about ten minutes later, he started to drift off.

_He could hear voices in the distance. Familiar voices, but he couldn't tell what they were saying. They were slowly drawing closer, whispering among each other and then..._

_**SPLASH!**_

Harry awoke with a start. He felt water running down his face and soaking his t-shirt. When he wiped his glasses off, he saw his fat, pig-like cousin, Dudley standing in front of him surrounded by his gang. They were all laughing and carried large water guns.

"Hello Potter," he said. "Thought you looked like you needed to cool down a little."

Harry fought to keep his temper in check. However much he wanted retaliation, he did not need another letter from the Ministry about doing underage magic.

He forced his anger back and glared at Dudley.

"I've been through some crazy stuff today Dudders, and I don't have the time to play your games," Harry said through gritted teeth, "and if you know what's good for you, you'll go away before I really lose my temper."

Dudley faltered a little, but recomposed himself quickly and turned towards his henchmen.

"Let's go boys," he said. As they left, Harry noticed that several of Dudley's friends looked quizzically between himself and Dudley as they passed.

Harry leant back against the tree again, letting the sun dry him.

Some time later, he figured he must have dozed off, because when he opened his eyes, the sun was low on the horizon and the air felt slightly chilly. He rose slowly from his sitting position and pulled at the back of his shirt to unstick it from his sweaty back.

He walked home slowly, looking around at the familiar houses and gardens he passed. He liked evening walks. They were peaceful and there weren't as many people scowling at him from their neatly manicured lawns.

When he arrived at the Dursleys' doorstep, the sky had already turned red. He entered the house and noticed that Dudley's shoes weren't in the hall. He must still be outside, vandalizing public property or something of the sort.

Harry removed his own shoes and climbed the stairs to the second floor. He allowed himself a bathroom visit before he went to Ginny's door and knocked lightly.

There was no answer this time either. He kept trying for about a minute before he gave up.

When he entered his own room, he went straight for the bed, undressed and climbed under the covers. The last things he thought before he fell asleep was that, of all the gifts he'd got for his birthday, Ginny Weasley was the least expected.


	2. A Turning of Tables

**Chapter Two**

**A Turning of Tables**

_The grass was soft behind his back and the bright light from the sky above shone through his eyelids, tingeing the darkness slightly red._

_He didn't know how long he had been lying there, neither did he care. He simply enjoyed listening to the sounds of the leaves rustling in the wind and the birds singing in the trees. It was a nice change from the constant flurry of activity in The Burrow._

_Here he was safe from pranks played on him by the twins and the endless chores assigned by Mrs Weasley._

_There was the faint sound of voices in the distance, but they seemed to come progressively closer. He could hear Ron's voice calling to the twins. From the sound of it, they were on their way toward the orchard for a game of Quidditch._

_He considered briefly asking if he could join them, but he knew they would never let him, so he stayed where he was._

_About ten minutes later, he started to get bored, so he sat up and picked up the book that lay beside him. It was about a girl who had found an injured unicorn and nursed it back to health, and it was quite boring. It had been given to him by his mother, who had assured him that he would love it just as much as she had when she was a little girl. If that was the case, she hadn't liked it much. He didn't have the heart to tell her that it was the most boring thing he had ever read and that he would rather play Quidditch with the boys though, so he faithfully..._

_**EEK EEK EEK EEK**_

Harry was rudely woken by the insistent ringing of his alarm clock. He reached out to shut it off, but all he managed to do was knock it to the floor. It hit the ground with a resounding crash and promptly went quiet. He'd probably have to pick it up in pieces.

A sudden intake of breath drew his attention and he almost fell out of his bed as he rolled over to see someone sitting at his desk.

"Ginny," he almost yelled, but caught himself at the last second, "what are you doing here?"

Ginny herself actually _had_ fallen off the chair and was now lying on the floor apologizing repeatedly and cursing her own stupidity. Harry knew he had every reason to be angry with her, but looking at her, he didn't know if he wanted to laugh at her attempts to get up from under the fallen chair or if he simply felt sorry for her.

"It's okay, you know," he said finally, trying to adopt a stern voice despite his tiredness. "I won't yell at you, but I would really like to know what you are doing in my room."

At this, Ginny sprang up from the floor and snatched up a piece of parchment from his desk, hesitated for a second, and then proceeded to scrunch it up in her fist. When the piece of parchment was nothing more than a small ball, she hesitated again; then she spoke.

"I wanted to apologize to you for yelling at you earlier, but you weren't here. I decided to write you a note, but I guess I must have fallen asleep..."

"Okay," he said after an awkward silence. "Well, if you could perhaps go to your room for a while and let me get dressed. Then we could meet downstairs?"

"Of course," she said, quickly tossing the ball of parchment in the trash and scurrying out of the room.

Harry rose slowly and got out of bed. He pulled on the same clothes he had used yesterday. It wasn't like he had much to change into anyway. The Dursleys had stopped giving him Dudley's old clothes when he began Hogwarts, and the only clothes he had that he liked were his Hogwarts robes. For some reason he didn't think the Dursleys would approve of him wearing them in their house.

When he was dressed, he went over to Hedwig's empty cage and picked up her water bowl on his way to the bathroom. He refilled the bowl and returned to his room. As he put the bowl back in the cage, a letter on his desk drew his attention–or rather the distinct green ink and Hogwarts seal on it.

Deciding it might be good to open it, he snatched the letter from the desk and ripped it open. There were three pieces of parchment inside. He pulled out the first one.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock._

_Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign._

_A list of books for next year is enclosed._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Professor M. McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Harry pulled out the form and read through it, wondering how on earth he would get his aunt or uncle to sign it.

He took out the book list next. As he read through it, Hagrid's choice of birthday present suddenly made perfect sense.

_THIRD YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:_

_-CORE SUBJECTS-_

_DEFENCE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS:  
The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts by Arsenius Jigger_

_CHARMS:  
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three by Miranda Goshawk_

_TRANSFIGURATION:  
Intermediate Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

_-ELECTIVES-_

_CARE OF MAGICAL CREATURES:  
The Monster Book of __Monsters by Edwardius__ Lima_

_DIVINATION:  
Unfogging the Future by Cassandra Vablatsky_

He glanced toward the tied-up pillowcase beside him. Then he put all the pages back in the envelope except the permission form, which he put on top of it. Then he went down to the kitchen.

When he entered the kitchen, Ginny hadn't arrived yet, so he pulled out a frying pan and started preparing breakfast.

Just as the butter in the pan had melted, Ginny came down the stairs. She had switched the t-shirt and pants of yesterday for a simple, light green summer dress.

"Good morning again," he greeted her as she walked up to him.

"Hello," she answered, sounding much more tired than before. "What time is it, Harry?" she asked. "I'm still tired."

"Around half past six, I'd guess," Harry replied.

"So early? Why are we in the kitchen at half past six in the morning on a weekend?" she asked incredulously.

"Breakfast," he answered simply.

"I can see that," she said defensively, "but why so early?"

Harry paused for a moment.

"Well, we usually eat breakfast this early," he said.

Ginny looked at him strangely, and Harry got the distinct impression that she wanted to ask him something, but at that moment Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen.

Vernon completely ignored them as he went to his seat at the table and started reading that morning's paper.

With the ease of a person who had done it many times before, Harry cracked two eggs into the frying pan. He then turned back to Ginny, who was looking around the kitchen with a lost look on her face.

"Do you want any help?" she asked when she noticed him observing her.

"Yeah..." he said slowly, turning his mind over for something she could do. He realized Ginny probably had no idea of how to use any of the appliances in a Muggle kitchen. He decided to start with something simple.

"If you look in the freezer–that's the lower door on the large white cabinet over there–you should find a pack of bacon. It needs to be defrosted in the microwave before we can fry it." When Ginny looked at him like he had just spoken a different language, he added, "I'll guide you through the steps, don't worry." He gave her a confident smile as an extra reassurance.

Ginny walked over to the fridge/freezer combo and opened the door gently, as if she was afraid something would be jumping out at her at any moment.

"On second thought, bring two packs," Harry called to her, thinking of Dudley and how he would usually eat almost a whole package by himself on the mornings after being out all night.

After a lot of rummaging, Ginny returned with two packs of frozen bacon in her hand. Harry directed her to the microwave and instructed methodically how to set it to defrost. After ten minutes, the bacon was ready just as the eggs were done.

"Do you know how to fry bacon?" Harry asked her.

"I think so," she replied, somehow both insecure and confident at the same time.

Harry unloaded the last of the eggs onto the plate and explained briefly how to use the Muggle stove. He then made his way around the kitchen, collecting plates, glasses and cutlery as he went.

As he set the table, he shot the occasional glance in Ginny's direction, but she seemed to be doing just fine. He guessed that she had picked up some tips from watching her mother.

When the table was set, Harry went on to toast the bread.

"So that's what those are used for!" Ginny exclaimed rather too loud when he put four slices of bread in the toaster. He could hear Vernon grunting something under his breath and rustling the paper.

"My dad has a couple of those in his shed," she continued, "but he never figured out what they are used for."

"Well, now you can tell him," Harry said, smiling fondly. From the first time he had met Mr Weasley, he had been bombarded with questions about Muggles, and even though the Weasley children often seemed to think their father's interest was somewhat embarrassing, Harry genuinely liked Mr Weasley.

Harry and Ginny were almost ready with the breakfast when Aunt Petunia entered the kitchen. She tried to ignore them too, but Harry noticed her shooting a disgusted look at Ginny before taking her place beside Vernon at the table.

Harry and Ginny finished the preparations, put the plates of food on the table and sat down themselves.

All in all, breakfast was rather pleasant, thought Harry. His aunt and uncle mostly ignored him, so he got the chance to snatch a bit more food than he usually did, and best of all, he had a friend to talk to. If it weren't for the occasional disapproving look from either his aunt or uncle, it would have been like Harry imagined a normal family breakfast would be.

Harry and Ginny didn't let themselves be intimidated though. They kept a lighthearted conversation going between themselves–mostly about Quidditch.

"The incompetence of these so-called journalists will never cease to amaze me," growled Uncle Vernon suddenly. "You know what they did this time?" he put the paper flat on the table and turned it to Aunt Petunia. From where Harry sat, he could see that the article covered the whole page, but the angle made it impossible for him to read even the bold headline.

"They have devoted this whole page to this escaped prisoner, but they fail to tell us neither when nor from where the man escaped. The only usable information is that he was apparently arrested for the murder of thirteen people and sentenced to life imprisonment twelve years ago."

"Did they at least give a name?" Aunt Petunia asked.

"Yeah, it was, um..." he scanned the article, "yes, Sirius Black."

Suddenly, Ginny gave a muffled squeal beside him and dropped her toast in her yoghurt. Her face had gone nearly as white as a ghost's.

"I-I'm sorry, I'll just... I just have to use the bathroom," she stammered, and before anyone had the chance to get any the wiser, she was out of the room and on her way up the stairs.

Knowing full well that she didn't need to use the bathroom at all, Harry left his food and went after her.

Harry didn't have to wait long to be let in after knocking on Ginny's door. Ginny was still rather pale, but seemed to have at least calmed down a bit.

"What was all that about?" Harry demanded as he entered the room. Ginny shook her head as if to clear it.

"Come in Harry, and I'll tell you," she said.

As the room lacked any good sitting places designed for more than one person at a time, they both sat down on the bed. Ginny took a few deep breaths and then began to tell him.

"Sirius Black was a big supporter of You-Know-Who. They say he was one of his most faithful servants. As your uncle said, he was sentenced to Azkaban–the wizard prison–after killing thirteen people: twelve Muggles and one wizard. It was just after You-Know-Who disappeared. They say he was after information on You-Know-Who's whereabouts. He cornered some wizard on a Muggle street, and when he couldn't tell Black what he wanted to know, he blew up the entire street and killed everyone there."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. This was clearly a madman, and if he was loose on the streets...

"That... sounds pretty bad," said Harry finally.

"Yeah," Ginny agreed.

They sat in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Then, just as Harry was about to ask Ginny more about the Wizarding prison, he heard footsteps moving through the hallway outside, followed by a large bang as Dudley hit Harry's door on his way downstairs–something he usually did whenever he walked by; especially in the mornings.

"What was that?" Ginny asked, startled from her reveries.

"Nothing," Harry replied, "just Dudley. Are you still hungry? I want to finish my breakfast before Dudley finishes it for me."

"No, I'm okay," she said, but she smiled at him, so Harry figured it would be okay to leave her alone for a little while.

As he went out into the hall, he remembered his permission form lying on his desk. He went into his room and put it in his pocket. He wanted to at least try to get it signed. It would be nice to go to the village.

When Harry arrived back in the kitchen, Dudley was already stuffing his face with food, and his uncle had gone back to silently reading his paper. Aunt Petunia was nowhere to be found.

Nobody said a word as Harry took his place at the table and continued eating. This was fine with Harry. He didn't want to talk to them anyway.

Harry ate his food quickly as he didn't want to leave Ginny alone for too long. Not that he thought she couldn't handle herself, but he guessed she didn't want to be by herself in an unknown house for too long; especially not in this house.

Just as he was done, Uncle Vernon rose from the table, apparently just having finished himself.

"I'm off to pick up Marge at the station," he said, stealing a glance at his wristwatch.

"Wait!" Harry nearly shouted as he followed his uncle into the hallway. "Do you think maybe, I mean-" he stammered, "the thing is, third years at Hog- at my school are allowed to visit the nearby village at certain weekends, and I wondered if maybe you could sign my permission form?" Harry put on his best innocent face. Vernon on the other hand, wore an expression of mixed amusement and outrage.

"I will never sign anything that _school_ gives you," he said after a few tense moments.

Harry was not surprised by this answer, but he had been living with his relatives long enough to learn a few tricks on how to bend them to his will–even if he was not quite as good at it as Dudley was.

"You realize then that I won't be able to guarantee that I won't be letting something slip to Aunt Marge?" Harry replied calmly.

"You wouldn't dare," growled Uncle Vernon.

"Oh, I would," retorted Harry. He had long since stopped being afraid of his uncle. "Unless you agree to sign my form."

Harry's uncle was getting redder in the face by the second, but finally he said, "If you promise to behave, and keep any mention of your... _unnaturalness _far away from Marge... then… I will sign your bloody permission form."

Harry grinned at his uncle, which only made the man's jaw clench even tighter and his face grow an even darker shade of red. He poked his index finger hard into Harry's chest and stared at him menacingly. "And if I see one _single_ bit of ma- you-know-what, the deal is off," he growled.

"Deal," said Harry, offering his hand, but Vernon ignored it and walked over to the clothes hanger and pulled down his coat. Recognizing the obvious dismissal for what it was, Harry went back upstairs.

He found Ginny where he had left her. She was sitting on her bed, seemingly deep in thought.

"What's up?" Harry asked as he entered the room. Ginny's head snapped up from where it had rested in her hands, a startled look on her face.

"Anything wrong?" Harry inquired.

"No," Ginny denied, but Harry could tell that there was something bothering her, and it was not only from the way she was acting; he could almost _feel_ that something was wrong. He didn't say anything though. Instead, he simply went and sat down next to her again.

There was an awkward silence between them. Harry knew that they had a lot to talk about still. There was not only the problem of who to tell, or even what to tell them, but they also had to discuss their own feelings about the bond and how it might impact their future.

To tell the truth, Harry was a lot calmer about the situation than he would have imagined. He would have thought that if someone told him he would be irrevocably bound to his best friend's sister, he would just lose it and freak out, but the only thing he felt was a lot of fear. He was afraid of what this might mean for him and Ginny if Voldemort suddenly found a way to come back. He had already tried twice, and both times had nearly resulted in Harry's death. He didn't want to think about what would happen if Voldemort went after him now.

In his first year at Hogwarts, one of the teachers had been trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone–a stone used to produce the Elixir of Life–which was hidden within the school. Harry, Ron and Hermione had followed him and stopped him, but it almost cost Harry his life.

During his second year, a memory of Voldemort that had been hidden in a diary for fifty years had possessed Ginny and made her open the Chamber of Secrets, releasing a basilisk that was supposed to kill every student who was not a pureblood. Luckily, nobody died, but quite a few people got petrified–Hermione among them.

At the end of the year, Ginny was taken down to the Chamber itself, and Harry and Ron went after her. They got separated by a cave-in, but Harry finally reached Ginny and managed to save her life by slaying the basilisk and driving one of its fangs through the diary, destroying the memory of Voldemort who had been possessing Ginny and feeding off her soul. This was the event that Dumbledore now said had forged this bond between them.

Harry looked sideways at Ginny, who had returned to sitting with her face resting in her palms. As he looked at her, he came to a sudden and disturbing realization. Harry had come face to face with Voldemort twice already–three times if you counted the attack that killed his parents and gave him the scar–therefore he knew how terrifying the man could be, and Ginny had been possessed by him for almost a year. Harry felt ashamed of himself for not thinking of this sooner, because from the looks of things, she wasn't handling herself very well.

"It's not your fault, you know," he said finally. Ginny turned her head slowly and looked at him. Her eyes were shining with as of yet unshed tears, but she didn't say anything.

"It's Voldemort's fault," he continued. "It's always been Voldemort's fault."

Harry took a deep breath, closed his eyes and lay back on the bed before resuming his monologue. He could hear a sniff coming from Ginny's direction.

"I know what Voldemort is like," he said. "I know what you are going through, and I will be here if you want to talk."

There were more sniffs from Ginny, and Harry assumed that she had finally cracked.

"No, you don't," she croaked in a small voice. If it hadn't been dead quiet in the room, Harry doubted he would have heard her. She drew a noisy breath and continued, "You don't know what it's like to have him controlling your life for a year."

Ginny was right, Harry realized. He didn't know that, but he still wanted to help her.

"Tell me," he said. "How was it to be possessed by Voldemort?"

The bed shifted under him as Ginny moved and Harry opened his eyes to find her looking at him with something akin to shock and surprise. When she remained silent, Harry continued, "I think you need to talk about it. I won't force you to do it, but I want you to know that I'll understand." She simply nodded.

Neither one moved for a long time. They just sat there, looking at each other. Harry noticed that her eyes were still shining with the tears from before, but her lips formed a vague smile, so he guessed everything would be okay.

The sudden noise of the front door opening and people talking downstairs broke the silence, and just as Harry expected, the impatient voice of Uncle Vernon sounded its customary homecoming serenade.

"BOY! Come down here and help carry your aunt's things in from the car!"

No sooner had he stopped speaking, before Marge added her two cents in a booming voice.

"You still have that menace here, Vernon?" she asked her brother. "I do hope he keeps himself useful. Personally, I don't know why you even kept him. Would have sent him straight to the orphanage if it were me."

Harry, who was already halfway to the door, knew that Ginny would want to talk to him about how he was treated, but he didn't really look forward to that conversation, so he hurried out of the door, ignoring Ginny's stern expression.

When he arrived in the hallway, he found his way blocked by the broad figure of Aunt Marge, who got a look on her face that wouldn't look out of place on a predator who had just spotted especially juicy prey. Apparently wanting to delay any confrontation until later, Vernon grunted, "The bags are in the car, get a move on. They won't carry themselves to the guest room."

Suppressing a grin at the thought that–if he was allowed to do magic–he would be able to make the bags do just that, Harry went outside to the car.

The moment he opened the trunk of the car, he was welcomed by Ripper, Marge's favourite dog, who seemed to hate Harry at least as much as his owner. Vernon's sister bred bulldogs for a living, and Harry idly wondered if "hating Harry" was part of her dog training programme. If so, Ripper probably got top marks.

He grabbed two of the three large suitcases and opened Ripper's cage. The moment it opened, the dog leapt at Harry, who instinctively blocked the oncoming mutt with a suitcase. Ripper's nose impacted the hard surface with a satisfying crunch.

He arrived back in the hallway with a whining Ripper trailing after him. The sound of her beloved dog in obvious pain immediately drew the attention of Marge.

"Vernon!" she said, "Didn't I tell you that I don't trust him around my little Rippy?" then she turned on Harry, "You!" she said, in a voice remarkably similar to her brother's; she even pointed her finger at him the same way, "I'll keep my eye on you. And don't you dare come near my dog again!"

Harry just glared back at her, but didn't respond. Instead, he turned and went to fetch the remaining suitcase.

When he returned to the hallway, Marge had Dudley in a hug so tight that Harry found himself half hoping that Dudley would suffocate. The boy was grinning over his aunt's shoulder, and if Harry hadn't known better, he would have thought that his cousin actually enjoyed the hug, but Harry knew that he was well paid for it, and sure enough, when they broke apart, He wasn't surprised to see him clutching a crisp twenty pound note in his fat fist.

"I do love to see a healthy sized boy," Marge said, looking at Dudley proudly. "This one," she continued, rounding on Harry, "would do well to take a leaf out of Dudder's book."

Harry bit back a reply about Dudley not having any books to take leafs from and instead brushed past her without a word, heading for the stairs. As he climbed up to the second floor, he heard Vernon inviting Marge for some tea. When Marge suggested that Ripper could have some tea out of her saucer, Harry briefly reflected that Petunia's ridiculously strong tea would probably not be very good for a dog's health. He found that he didn't care the least.

"I'll be right back. I'll have to talk to the boy," he heard Vernon say from downstairs, and he suddenly realized that Marge would have the room Ginny was staying in.

"It appears we have a problem," Harry said the moment he entered the guest room, cutting Ginny off before she had the chance to say anything. She looked at him annoyed, but didn't say anything other than "what?" though she said it in a rather irritated tone. Harry didn't have time to explain though, because at that moment, Vernon busted into the room.

"We need to set a few rules," he growled in a whisper, evidently hoping that his words wouldn't carry downstairs. "First of all, Marge doesn't know that _you_," he shot a stern glance at Ginny, "are staying here, and I want to keep it that way. You make sure you stay out of her way at all times. Second, Marge will stay in this room, so you can clear out your things right now. Third," he looked back at Harry again, "we have told Marge that you go to St. Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys."

"What?" exclaimed Harry. He glanced at Ginny, who looked even more annoyed than he was.

"And you'll be sticking to that story," said Uncle Vernon, barely able to keep his voice down.

Harry fought to keep his temper under control. With all these rules, not to mention the presence of Aunt Marge, this seemed to be one of the worst summers yet, despite the fact that he now had Ginny to accompany him.

"Where will Ginny sleep then?" he asked, suddenly remembering.

"Not my problem," his uncle spat nastily. "Should have thought about that before you went and got yourself bonded, shouldn't you?

Harry nearly exploded. He bloody well saved Ginny's life! Vernon made this sound like they had one day just decided, _let's get bonded forever! Hey, wouldn't that be a laugh?_

If he hadn't saved her, she would be dead or worse, and now Vernon was making her stay hidden in her room like some prisoner in a cell!

"I can't bloody believe him!" Harry yelled after Vernon had closed the door behind him with a resounding bang. "I save your life, we get forced into this bond against our will, and he locks you in your room as if you did something wrong!" Harry didn't notice a vase on the table starting to crack. "In fact, you don't even have a room anymore," he added, making the vase explode violently, sending shards of china flying across the room. Startled by the sound, Harry forced himself to calm down to prevent himself from doing even worse accidental magic.

He sat down on the bed beside Ginny–who, he noticed, was fighting to keep from exploding herself–and put his face in his hands, drawing deep breaths. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I don't care if he insults me, I can handle it, but when he starts on my friends..." he couldn't finish the sentence, but he didn't really need to.

"I know," Ginny said through gritted teeth. "And don't think I don't feel the same when he starts on you."

"Sorry," he said again. "I'll remember that."

"Make sure you do," she replied.

Harry got up and started gathering the pieces of broken vase scattered around the room.

"You might as well pack my quills and ink while you're at it," Ginny said. "I'll start taking my books down from the shelves."

All right," Harry agreed, "we'll put your stuff in my room for now."

"Okay," she consented.

When they had moved all of Ginny's things into Harry's room, Harry went downstairs to greet Aunt Marge, or as Harry preferred to think of it, report for the first of Aunt Marge's obligatory daily "Insult Harry Potter" sessions.

"Do something about your hair," was the way Uncle Vernon welcomed him when he entered the kitchen. This, of course, alerted Aunt Marge to his presence, and she wasted no time in both berating him for taking too long to unpack her things and to blame his parents for his slow nature.

"What were you doing up there anyway?" She asked when Harry failed to respond to her taunting of his heritage in a satisfactory manner. "I heard something breaking. I do hope that wasn't my perfume. I paid a good bit of money for it, you know, and if I see you broke it, I'll make sure you pay every single penny for it."

Harry seriously doubted that Marge's perfume was really as expensive as she made it out to be. He knew that, if Marge could find any way to make Harry do more work, she would seize the opportunity without blinking. He didn't rise to her baiting though. He knew that his best chance to get his Hogsmeade permission form signed was to keep himself from arguing with the woman, so he kept focusing on getting back upstairs to Ginny.

"No, it wasn't," he said plainly, responding to Marge's query as to what had broken upstairs. Marge looked at him as if she didn't believe him, but didn't press the issue any further.

Harry sat down at the table and poured himself a small cup of tea. He didn't dare drink it though. Around him, the Dursleys kept up a constant stream of conversation, but Harry didn't join in. Instead, he found himself spending the time thinking of Ginny and their conversation earlier that day. He had wanted to talk to her, but had no idea of what to say. At least he had told her that he was there for her if she needed him. That was a beginning, at least.

Deciding that he had enough of the Dursleys for today, and that it would be fun to play a prank on Ginny, he filled up his teacup, grabbed a few biscuits from a tray and rose from the table. Nobody made any protest when he left the room, and Harry wasn't even sure anyone had noticed.

When he opened the door to his room, he found himself stopping on the threshold. Something had happened here. Someone had _cleaned_ his room, and there was only one person who could have done it.

"Are you sure you can't use magic out of school?" he asked finally.

Ginny, who was sitting on Harry's bed, reading a magazine, looked up at him and smiled. "Yes. Just a few tricks Mum taught me," she replied, "and besides, I still had some anger I had to work off.

"Well, thanks," he said, taking a step into the room. "I brought you some tea," he said unnecessarily, presenting the tea and fistful of biscuits he held in his hands.

"Thanks," she said.

Harry put the cup and accompanying baked goods on his now clean desk while Ginny got up and sat on the chair. Harry took her place on the bed.

"Really, thanks for cleaning this mess up," he said. "I just tend to leave stuff where it's most convenient at the time."

"It was nothing," she answered, smiling. "It wasn't that messy anyway, she continued, and then she took a sip from the cup. At once, her smile was replaced with a frown.

"What did you do to this?" she asked him when he started laughing at her.

"Nothing, I swear," Harry answered. "That's the reason Aunt Petunia usually asks me to make the tea. I have no idea of how she does it really, but it always comes out very strong and bitter."

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. "Tell me, Harry," she said getting suddenly serious. "Does she really _ask_ you to make the tea or does she _order_ you to do it?

Harry felt quite uncomfortable under her scrutinizing gaze. It was a little scary how much she reminded him of her mother just now.

"Okay," he said finally. "She never asked me for anything, but I'm happy to make the tea. Spares me from Aunt Petunia's horrible brews," he added.

"Still," she said with distaste. "I don't like the way they treat you, Harry. Have they always been like this?"

"No," he replied. "They've usually only been like this whenever I did accidental magic. I think they are being like this now because they know that, if we are treated poorly, your family will come and pick us up."

"Yeah, I have half a mind to write them right now," she said. "Honestly, Harry. They treat you like you're their house-elf, not their nephew. Why didn't you tell anybody how bad it was?" She looked at him with concern etched on her face.

"Don't know," he replied. "Didn't want to burden anyone, I guess. Besides, I'm used to it by now."

"You shouldn't be," she said. "Nobody should be treated like you have been and say that they're used to it."

"Sorry," he began, but Ginny cut him off.

"No," she spat, "don't you dare say you're sorry, Harry. It's _them_ who should be sorry. They should be sorry for never giving you any Christmas presents, or even celebrate your birthday-"

"How did you-" Harry interjected, but she cut him off.

"Ron told me about the Christmas presents," she said, "and I knew it was your birthday yesterday, but I saw no indication whatsoever of them recognizing it. Someone should teach them a lesson," she finished.

"Yes," Harry agreed. He felt a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach when Ginny defended him. It was pride, mixed with something else that he couldn't readily define. It was a good feeling though. "What could we do?" he asked. "We're not allowed to use magic during the holidays."

"No," she agreed, "that is a problem. I could ask Fred and George though," she mused. "If you need to prank someone, they're the two people you want to talk to first."

Harry agreed wholeheartedly. Fred and George Weasley–Ron and Ginny's older twin brothers–were about to start their fifth year at Hogwarts, and were well known among both the staff and the students for being the school pranksters-in-chief.

"I used Hedwig to send a letter home yesterday when you were outside though, so we'll have to wait for her to come back," she continued. "Don't worry, I told them everything was fine," she said when she noticed Harry's concerned expression.

"Well, we could write the letter while we wait," Harry suggested.

_Dear Fred and George,_

_We don't know how much Mum and Dad have told you about why I'm staying with Harry, but we don't want to go into it in a letter. We promise to tell you more about it when we return to The Burrow. All you need to know is that they are treating him horribly and someone will need to teach them a lesson._

_As we are both underage and not allowed to do magic, and Harry's potions kit is locked away in a cupboard, we thought we'd ask my favourite pranking brothers if they had any idea of what to do._

_Much love,_

_Harry and Ginny_

_PS. Don't tell Mum and Dad about this. If they knew how Harry is treated, they would come and pick us up, but we don't want them to do that yet. Harry's uncle is refusing to sign Harry's Hogsmeade permission form until a week from now, and we also want some time to play a good prank on them before Mum "rescues" us._

_PPS. We have enclosed a note for Mum too. Make sure Hedwig delivers it this evening. Around dinnertime could work._

"That's not bad," Harry said after reading through the letter. They had spent about two hours drafting and writing it.

"We've got another letter to The Burrow, Hedwig," he said to his owl, letting her out of her cage. She had returned an hour earlier, carrying a short note from Mrs Weasley, confirming that she had got the letter Ginny sent the day before and prompting them to tell her of any new developments. In their answer they had only told her that Aunt Marge had arrived and that there had been no complications whatsoever.

"I want you to deliver this directly to Fred and George's room," he told his owl. "Let nobody else see you."

Hedwig nibbled his finger affectionately, which Harry took as an affirmative.

He tied the letter to her leg and opened the window. Hedwig promptly jumped out and began her trip back to the Burrow.

"I hope that they have some good ideas," Ginny said.

"Me too," replied Harry.

The rest of the day was spent in Harry's room, where Harry took it upon himself to teach Ginny about Muggle technology. She proved to be an eager student, and soaked up everything he told her; at least until she discovered the desk lamp and spent a good twenty minutes by his desk, just turning the lamp on and off. It wasn't until Harry found some of Dudley's old discarded board games that he got her attention again. Luckily, unlike most of Dudley's old things, the games had never been used, and most of them even had the plastic wrapping on the box still intact.

As Harry had never had anyone to play any Muggle games with, they learned together, though Harry's knowledge of how Muggle money worked gave him a definite advantage in _Monopoly._

It wasn't until late that afternoon that they were forced to deal with another issue: sleeping arrangements.

Since Harry had no idea if the Dursleys even had a camp bed–and he guessed that, if they did, they wouldn't lend it out–Harry and Ginny decided that the best option under the current circumstances would be to sleep head to toe in Harry's bed.

Harry followed her to the bathroom and waited outside the door as a lookout, making sure that Marge didn't see anything she wasn't supposed to.

When she was done, he followed her back to his room–or _their_ room, as it were–and then returned to the bathroom to perform his own evening ritual.

By the time he arrived in the bedroom again, Ginny had already changed and got under the covers. At his prompt, she closed her eyes, allowing Harry to change too. He fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

_Harry followed his mother and four of his brothers into King's Cross Station. He clung tightly to his mother's hand as he tried to fight back the fear. He didn't want them to leave yet. It felt like they had only just come back for the summer, and now they were going to leave him all over again. It wasn't fair! Even Ron was going, and he would be all alone until Christmas. Perhaps 'alone' was a bit of a strong word, but his Mum was often busy with other things during the day when his father was at work, and mostly, he would end up spending time with Ron._

"_And it's packed with Muggles, of course," his mother grunted when a boy made a rather loud comment to his mother about whether it was normal to keep an owl as a pet._

"_Now, what's the platform number?" she asked. Harry knew that she hadn't really forgotten and it was probably just out of habit, but he answered anyway._

"_Nine and three quarters," he said, and then continued, "Mum, can't I go?"_

"_You're not old enough Ginny," she said dismissively, "now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."_

_He watched as Percy straightened himself importantly and strode purposefully towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten._

"_Fred, you next," she said, and Harry watched half amused as his twin brothers made their mother very confused about which of them actually __**was**__ Fred._

_All too soon they had both disappeared too, and it was only him and Ron left..._

"_Excuse me," said a boy suddenly. He had jet-black hair and green eyes that was framed by round glasses that had been broken and carelessly repaired with some kind of tape._

"_Hello, dear," answered his Mum. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new too," she gestured at Ron, who had just prepared to walk through the barrier himself._

"_Yes," answered the boy. "The thing is- the thing is, I don't know how to-"_

"_How to get onto the platform?" his mother supplied helpfully, and the boy nodded. His Mum instructed the stranger on how to get onto platform nine and three quarters and proposed that the boy go before Ron, which he did without a problem. Then Ron went through, followed closely by himself and their mother._

_They immediately set out to find the rest of the family, and Harry glanced at the train, thinking that the twins usually headed straight for the luggage car and hoped that he'd see them there, but the flash of red hair his eyes caught wasn't that of Fred or George. It was much longer and it was attached to a girl who looked both very scared and thoroughly confused. Her eyes were shooting this way and that, as if she was looking for something, or rather, running away._

_That's when Harry noticed the small black book she was clutching to her chest, and the moment he recognized just what book it was, he was flooded by memories. __**It was Tom Riddle's diary. It contained the memory of a sixteen year old boy by the name of Tom Riddle, the boy who would grow up and become known worldwide as the evil 'Dark Lord' Voldemort.**_

"_Ginny!" Harry yelled, running at her. She whipped around alarmingly fast, but somehow she managed to still keep her balance._

"_Harry!" she called back, "What are you doing here?"_

"_What are __**you**__ doing __**here**__?" he countered._

"_I don't know," she said, panicking, "but we need to get out of here! Tom is coming!"_

_At that moment, there was a loud hissing sound and out of nowhere, a basilisk the size of a train came slithering down the tracks. Ginny clung to Harry's arm as the crowd on the platform started to panic._

"_Harry," she whimpered, but he had no idea of what to do. He didn't have a sword this time. No Phoenix either. He didn't even have his wand._

_He felt helpless as the enormous snake came at them. The last one he had encountered couldn't have been this large, could it?_

"_I'll have you now," the basilisk hissed, and Harry was so surprised that he looked up without really thinking. Then his surprise grew as he met the monster's eyes. Normally, anyone who met the gaze of a basilisk dropped dead on the spot, but then again, this was no ordinary basilisk. Instead of the normal yellow eyes, this one had eyes of a deep blood red, and its voice when it spoke, even though it was Parseltongue, was clearly that of Tom Riddle._

"_You're mine, Ginevra Weasley," Basilisk Riddle continued, "and nothing can stop me. Least of all your precious __**Harry Potter**__." He spat the name out as if it was poison and then reared above them, poised to strike._

"_No!" Ginny cried, and Harry held her even tighter. He had no idea of what to do, but knew that he would never give Ginny over without a fight. He seized the book and started to pull out the pages, but to his surprise, the book got neither lighter nor thinner. No matter how many blank pages Harry scattered to the wind, nothing whatsoever happened to the book. It was as if the book generated a new page in another place in the book for every page he ripped out._

"_Foolish boy!" hissed Basilisk Riddle from above them. "You can't destroy it. Now __**I **__will destroy __**you**__, and then there will be nothing and no one left to stop me from taking little Ginevra's soul."_

"_I won't let you," Harry yelled defiantly, throwing the diary in the snake's face. "I won't let you have her!"_

"_You think you are so brave, Harry Potter," the snake replied in an almost casual way. "You think that just because you've succeeded in the past–on nothing but pure luck, I might add–nothing can touch you. Well, __**here's**__ a wake-up call for you!"_

_And then snake Riddle attacked, sinking his fangs into Harry's chest like hot knives through butter, and everything went black._

Harry awoke in a bath of sweat. He and Ginny had obviously been moving around quite a lot during the night, because they were almost lying on top of each other, and one or both of them had managed to kick the covers to the floor. Harry also found his pyjama sleeve had ridden up and his arm stuck quite well between Ginny's calves, causing their bare skin to meet–and just as before–direct skin contact also meant a direct and frightfully powerful transmission of feelings between them. Harry could clearly feel Ginny's distress, and suddenly remembered the reason he had woken up in the first place.

He pulled himself free, turned around so that he was facing the same direction as Ginny and proceeded to shake her shoulders lightly. She was trembling and whimpering silently, but if she said any words, Harry couldn't make them out.

"Ginny," he hissed in her ear, but she just gave a shudder and tried to roll away from him. He grabbed her roughly to prevent her from escaping and potentially fall off the bed and shook her with more force. Suddenly, she stilled as if all the muscles in her body had just decided to stop working. Harry released her and whispered to her again.

"Ginny? Are you okay?"

It hit him that he couldn't really have asked a more unnecessary question, but it was all he could think of just then.

"Ginny?" he prompted.

"Harry," she whispered back, and then she hugged him tightly. Initially, Harry was afraid that he would get a sudden burst of her emotions again, but it seemed that his pyjamas and her nightgown covered them both enough to prevent that. He slowly wrapped his arms around her too.

He had briefly considered trying to summon some good memories and attempt to send the good feelings to her like he had done yesterday, but decided against it. It would only postpone the problem. What she needed was to talk about it with someone.

"I'm here," he whispered finally. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Harry," she repeated, letting out a small sob. "You... you died."

This confirmed something that Harry had suspected. Somehow, they had shared dreams–or at least part of one dream.

"I'm not dead," he said. "I'm right here. It was just a dream." He squeezed her a little to reassure her, and then gave her a few minutes to compose herself. When she had stopped shaking, he asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Ginny was quiet for a long time, and Harry thought that she might have fallen asleep, but then she spoke and, still holding her in a protective embrace, Harry listened.

"It all started in the Chamber, as it usually does. I was lying on the floor, and Tom stood leaning over me. He told me that I shouldn't attempt to refuse him. He said that together, we could become even more powerful than Dumbledore himself. I told him to bugger off. I pushed him away, and I think I must have taken him by surprise, because he fell over. Then I grabbed the diary and got to my feet. I ran for the exit, but it was closed, and wouldn't open, and when I looked back, Tom was transforming into a giant snake. That's when I saw a small door in one of the corners. I ran for it, and I think I closed the door behind me just before Tom managed to get through." She paused for a moment. "Turns out it led to platform nine and three quarters at King's Cross," she said.

"Yeah, I know this part," Harry said. "I came running at you, and-"

"How did you know?" she interjected.

"I was there," he said. "I dreamt it too. First I was dreaming about when we first met, before I was going to my first year at Hogwarts, and then I saw you coming out of the train clutching the diary". He left out the detail about him dreaming their meeting from Ginny's point of view. He wasn't sure how she would respond to that news just now. It would have to wait until tomorrow.

"But how?" she asked. Harry could tell that she wasn't asking him specifically, but he decided to answer anyway.

"I think it has something to do with the bond," Harry guessed. "When I woke up, my arm was trapped by your legs, and I think you remember what happened the last time we touched.

She nodded. "Makes sense," she said.

"You think you're able to go back to sleep?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I think so," she replied, but when Harry started disentangling himself from her, she clung to him tightly. When he looked at her questioningly, she blushed and whispered, "Do you think you can hold me? Just tonight?"

Harry didn't have the heart to refuse her, and if he was honest with himself, he needed a little comfort too.

Harry and Ginny slept the rest of the night dreamlessly, and the next morning began in a similar manner to the one before, with the exception of Harry not being surprised to find Ginny in his room–or even in his arms–when he woke up.

They took turns in going to the bathroom while the other changed, and then Harry went down to make breakfast. Ginny stayed in Harry's room in the meantime so as to avoid Marge.

As he cooked, Harry tried to come up with a way to sneak some food up to Ginny without Marge noticing. Finally, he fetched a plastic bag from a drawer and hid it under his shirt, sneaking various foods into it as he cooked them.

After enduring another one of the Dursleys' boring breakfasts, complete with dreary conversation topics, spiced only with the occasional verbal insult from Marge directed at himself, Harry returned to his room to find Ginny sitting by the desk, reading a letter.

"Fred and George's reply just arrived!" she told him excitedly, thrusting the letter at him.

_Dear Ginny and Harry_

_Good thing you confronted us with this problem. We're obviously perfect for this job, no bragging. Oh, and thank you for all your love, Harry. How did you know that's all we ever wanted? I had to stop Fred from crying after reading your letter, you know.  
Ouch! Fred, don't hit me, I'm writing! Now look what you did!_

_However, we hope to see you back at the Burrow soon. Percy the perfect Prefect seems to think he's our boss now, and we could need you to put him back in his place._

_To say something referring to your problem: It's everything but easy to analyse your possibilities from here. Some more information like who you want to prank and what their known weaknesses and preferences are would help with that. But of course we can give the two of you some general advice on how to prank the Muggle way:_

_1. Use everything you see! Got a paper clip and a ballpoint pen refill? Perfect! Make use of the paperclip to attach the refill to someone's shoe. Best would be a high heel so that you can hide the refill behind the heel. Now your target has self-colouring shoes and Harry's Aunt Begonia or-whatever-her-name-is will rage! Also watch what the room gives you. The best pranks are those which require the least resources._

_2. Use the element of surprise! Pull your prank when nobody would expect it. Can everybody see what you're doing? That's a perfect moment to pull a prank, because they will think they would be safe. Take dinner for example! You can do so much funny stuff with your neighbour's food when they don't watch it!_

_3. Try to prank as many people as possible. Or at least as many people as possible should see what you did. Audience makes a prank a prank!_

_Well, that was probably all you have to know about muggle prank-pulling. But maybe you want some help? We could bring some stuff when Mum and Dad come to pick you up. We'd love to prank those Muggles who are obviously mistreating you two. So, shall we join Mum and Dad when it's time?_

_Lots of looooooove_

_George 'n Fred_

_PS: Marmalade is awesome for pulling pranks. In shoes, in pockets, under the breakfast bacon..._

"This is brilliant," Harry said grinning when he had read the letter through. He couldn't wait to try out some of the tips he and Ginny had got from the twins. "Oh, I almost forgot," he continued, pulling the bag from under his shirt, "Breakfast is served!"

Ginny made an eager noise and snatched it from him. She plunged a hand into it, pulled out a bacon sandwich and bit into it hungrily.

"This is great!" she exclaimed, looking at him approvingly. Harry watched amused as she quickly finished off the rest of the contents of the bag. She had obviously inherited the Weasley appetite, though her eating style was much more refined than that of her brother.

When she was done, she threw the bag in the trash and said, "So, what's the plan for today?"

"I think it's time to give my dear relatives some hell," Harry responded with a grin.


	3. Pranking

**Chapter Three**

**Pranking  
**

That afternoon, Harry and Ginny decided to take advantage of the good weather and play outside. Harry went downstairs first, making sure the coast was clear. Ginny followed behind him. When they had made their way out the door, they went quickly down the street and out of sight.

Harry showed her around the neighbourhood. Granted, there wasn't much to see; most of the area was filled with residential houses, but there was a small park with a bunch of trees and a playground not far from Privet Drive.

They spent a carefree hour in the park, playing games and chasing each other before the heat became too much and they had to sit down in the shade of a large tree. Ginny was grinning at him, and Harry couldn't resist grinning back. He suddenly realized that, for the first time while living with his aunt and uncle, he was truly happy. He had experienced the occasional bout of happiness before, of course, but that was simply the kind of joy he felt when he managed to best Dudley at something. Those moments used to come with a price though, because none of the Dursleys approved of Harry being good at anything that didn't benefit them in some way, such as cooking, cleaning or gardening.

The happiness he felt now was of a completely different kind. A friend to play with was something he had never had here before, and he enjoyed it immensely.

He picked up a flower that grew in the shade of the tree under which they were sitting and twisted it absently between his fingers, enjoying the companionable silence between them. He leaned back against the tree trunk, revelling in the feeling of actually having a good summer for once.

Then all of a sudden, the flower was snatched from between his fingers by Ginny, who stuck it behind her ear. The yellow colour of the petals contrasted nicely with her red hair, and it matched the yellow dress she wore perfectly. She looked like a picture from a Muggle summer vacation brochure. He smiled at her again.

"I wish every summer could be like this," Harry said quietly.

"Maybe, from now on, they will be," Ginny replied. "You know, with the bond and all."

Harry felt his stomach sink and he looked away. The joy he had felt just moments before gave way to a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't really define. "Yeah, the bond," he said absently. Then he turned back to her and said, "you know, I've been putting this off, but I think we need to talk about that."

"Yeah, we should, shouldn't we?" she replied.

Neither of them was eager to talk about the bond though, so they just sat there, absentmindedly pulling up grass and dropping it again. After about five minutes of this, Harry decided he would have to say _something_.

"I didn't tell you about the weirdest part of the dream last night," he began. When Ginny didn't respond, he continued, "I didn't just dream about my first time going to Hogwarts, I sort of dreamt it from your point of view."

He looked at her again, and she stared back, her mouth slightly open.

"What do you mean, my point of view?" she asked finally.

"Exactly that," he replied. "I saw everything as if I was you."

"But how?"

"Because of the bond, probably."

She nodded her head affirmingly, then she said, "so did you just see or..."

"No, I _was_ you. I felt what you felt, thought what you thought," he paused for a little while, trying to remember the dream. "You were afraid of being left alone, of not having anyone to play with, and you longed for when you could go to Hogwarts yourself. A year felt like such a long time."

When he finished, Ginny was gaping at him, her eyes shining with moisture. "That's scary, Harry," she said.

"Yeah," he replied. "This is really happening, isn't it? I mean, we feel each other's' feelings when we touch and now I think I dream your memories. You never really liked your mum treating you like a girl, did you? You'd rather play with your brothers than read girly books and play with dolls."

"How did you know?" she asked, shocked.

"I think I dreamt that too."

"So you dream from my memories?"

"Yeah, I think so,"

"Then why don't I dream your memories?"

"I don't know," Harry said. "Do you want to?"

"It would be a lot better than dreaming about Tom and the chamber," she replied coldly.

Harry grimaced and felt a little ashamed that he hadn't thought of that detail. "Yeah, sorry," he said. "I didn't think."

"It's okay," she said. "Do you think that the nightmares are the reason that you dream my memories but I don't dream yours?"

"Might be. I'm still here if you want to talk, you know."

"I know, thanks," she said, managing a smile.

"No problem," he said. "So," he continued, deciding to voice a thought that had been nagging him for two days, "what should we tell your brothers? They will be wondering about why you are staying with me. I know Dumbledore told us to keep it a secret, but I think Ron deserves to know the truth. I know him, and I trust him. I don't know about the others though. You know them better than me, so it's your call."

"Well, Ron can be very protective of me, and I'm not sure how he'll react, but you are right, he should know. The twins will hopefully just make a few jokes and be done with it, and Percy will have been too busy polishing his Head Boy badge to even notice I have been gone. I think we should tell them all though, because they'll find out sooner or later anyway. Better they hear it from us."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "What about Bill and Charlie?"

"I haven't seen Bill regularly since I was six, and Charlie since I was eight. I don't want to exclude them, but I also don't want to tell them by owl. I could ask mum to call a family meeting for when we get back..." she trailed off.

"Yeah, that sounds good," Harry agreed.

Relieved to have that conversation out of the way, Harry grinned at her and said, "so... what should we do about the Dursleys?

• • •

After some discussion, Harry and Ginny decided that _subtle_ was the way to go, since Harry wasn't sure if obvious pranks were such a good idea with the Dursleys. If they could make it look like an accident, that would be perfect. ´This, of course, meant that most of the tips from the twins would be useless. Fred and George thrived on the attention they got from a prank well done, so they made sure people would be able to at least guess who were behind them, even if nobody could ever prove anything. Unlike most Hogwarts professors however, Vernon didn't care for proof. If there were even the slightest hint that Harry had done something, he was punished, even if he didn't do anything.

Therefore, they decided to start small, and they both agreed that Dudley was the best person to start with.

When they got back home though, they realized that neither of them knew any good pranks they could play on Harry's cousin. Nevertheless, they went to his room just to see if an opportunity would present itself.

Harry knocked on Dudley's door, and when he didn't get an answer, he opened the door and stuck his head inside.

"The coast is clear," he said, gesturing for Ginny to follow him inside.

The simplest way to describe Dudley's room was "messy". The shelves were full of things, most of which Harry couldn't identify.

"What's that," Ginny asked, pointing at a cylindrical object standing on the desk.

"That's a coke can," Harry said, feeling a grin spreading on his face. He clearly remembered Dudley offering him cans of various sodas, only to have the content spray in his face every time he opened one. He quickly learned not to accept them anymore. "It's a Muggle drink," he continued as he walked over to it and picked it up. "If you shake it, it will spray whoever opens it in the face," he explained, shaking it violently in the air. Ginny looked slightly confused, but she grinned too.

On his desk, Dudley had a veritable collection of cans, most of them empty. They were accompanied by a mountain of wrapping papers from what looked like the combined content of a small candy shop.

"Why does he have two televisions?" asked Ginny suddenly.

Harry was initially a little confused, but when he looked at where she was pointing, it all clicked.

"That's not a television, that's a computer screen," he said, pointing at the rectangular box standing next to it on the desk.

"What do you use it for?" she inquired.

"Honestly? I have no idea," Harry replied. "The only thing Dudley does with it is play some game where he kills aliens."

"Aliens?"

"Yeah, people from other planets."

"Muggles think there are people on other planets?" she asked, frowning slightly.

"Eeh, no... or maybe, I don't know," he faltered. "The point is that it's completely pointless."

"Is there any way we can use it for a prank?"

"Dunno," he said, eyeing the box.

"Is it eclectic too? She asked, "Like the television? With those plugs that dad collects?"

"Plugs?" he asked, and then a sudden idea formed. "Plugs!" he exclaimed, "of course!"

He dived under the desk and saw three plugs plugged into a powerboard. He pulled the two for the computer and the screen, but left the lamp in place.

"There," he said, surfacing from under the desk. "Now he shouldn't be able to start it."

"Great," Ginny responded, smiling wickedly.

• • •

Ten minutes later, Harry and Ginny found themselves working on their summer homework. As Harry had spent a lot of time cooped up in his room, he had finished almost all of his work. All he had left was an essay for the most boring subject: History of Magic.

Ginny however, had spent her holiday playing with her brothers and going on holiday to Egypt, so she had a lot left to do.

"I just can't remember the two last uses of Dragon's Blood!" she complained loudly. Harry lifted his eyes from the parchment he was currently taking notes on.

"Why couldn't the author make a complete list of all the uses in the textbook instead of leaving hints and telling bits and pieces all over the chapter?" she continued.

"I wondered the same thing," Harry replied. "Hermione told me that it was to improve our research skills. But she made a list of them for us anyway." He laughed a little, thinking of his best friend's constant attempts at making him and Ron study harder. "Do you want some help?" he asked.

"Yes, that would be great, thanks." She pushed the parchment she had been writing on over to his side of the desk. Harry looked down at what she had written.

_Potions  
Essay on Dragon's Blood  
By Ginevra Weasley  
For Professor Severus Snape_

_Dragon's blood is the sap of the Dracena cinnabari, also known as the Soctora Dragon Tree or Dragon's Blood Tree. __It is dark red in colour and is a highly magical substance used in many potions, a lot of them healing potions._

_It has twelve known uses, and is one of few potion ingredients that also have several non-magical uses._

_The discovery of all twelve of its uses are credited to Albus Dumbledore._

_The uses can be divided into two groups. Potion related and non-potion related. There is six of each._

_Potion related uses of Dragon's Blood__:_

_1. Prevents scarring in physical wounds_

_2. Relieves menstrual pains_

_3. Eases breathing_

_4. Relieves stress_

_5. Main ingredient in the photo developing potion_

_6._

_Non-potion related uses of Dragon's Blood:_

_1. Used in stress relieving incense_

_2. Violin varnish_

_3. Pottery glue_

_4. Red fabric dye_

_5. Toothpaste ingredient_

_6._

Harry looked up from her list. "I remember that it's used in alchemy in some way, but I don't think anyone but Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel knows exactly how though. As for the last one, it's a great oven cleaner," he said as he returned her essay.

"Thanks," she said.

Harry laughed. "Don't thank me, thank Hermione. If she hadn't made us go through this list daily, I don't think I'd remember any of them. Thanks to her, I can now count half of them from memory.

Ginny started laughing, but was suddenly interrupted by a loud hissing noise followed by a scream from Dudley's room.

"What was that?" she asked.

"I think Dudley opened his drink," Harry replied grinning, which made Ginny grin in turn.

Soon, they heard Dudley's door open and heavy footsteps quickly making their way down the stairs. Harry and Ginny looked at each other briefly before sneaking out after him.

They had only come as far as the top of the stairs when they heard Vernon's voice growling from downstairs:

"And the can just exploded, you say?"

"Yes!" Dudley said indignantly. "And I hadn't done anything! I'd just gone downstairs to heat some leftover pizza, and when I come back to open my coke, it sprayed me in the face!"

Harry heard Uncle Vernon mutter under his breath and he thought he caught words like 'that boy', 'you-know-what' and 'punishment'.

Soon they heard the step at the bottom of the stairs creak under Vernon's heavy weight and they both scrambled into Harry's room again and sat on the floor they had recently vacated. They arranged their faces so as to look as innocent as possible, though neither could hold back a tiny smirk when their eyes met.

Their smiles disappeared entirely a second later as the door slammed open to reveal Uncle Vernon—red-faced and growling like a dog—his accusatory stare fixing first on Ginny and then on Harry.

"You," he growled, raising a finger in Harry's direction. "I warned you, boy," he paused and drew a hissing breath, "if you think for a moment that I will sign that bloody form of yours now… well, you can think again!" Then he slammed the door shut so hard that the pictures on the wall trembled, and Harry imagined that if the photos had been magical, their inhabitants would have flinched.

Harry's face fell. What would he do now? He looked over at Ginny, who looked like she was thinking hard about something, rolling her quill between her fingers. Not wanting to disturb her from her homework, he instead walked over to the bed and lay down. He thought about the injustice of having to live with the Dursleys, wishing that the Weasleys would come and take them away soon and listening to Ginny scratching away on her parchment.

• • •

Suddenly he was jerked awake by Ginny.

"Harry," she hissed.

"Huh?" he replied sleepily.

"Look at this," she continued. She handed him a piece of parchment and when he took it, she went on, "I have made a little list of pranks we can pull."

As he looked at her, Harry realized that the smile playing on her face was the exact same that the twins would wear before they played a prank.

Harry pulled his eyes away from her face and looked at the list and smiled himself. These were great. They were subtle enough to be thought of as an accident, but still had the potential to be really funny. The list included such classics as _switch the salt and sugar,_ _Put spiders in the underwear drawer_ and _hide perishable food in strange places_.

"You're a genius," he said. He felt like he could kiss her, but of course he didn't.

"Let's get this homework done, and then later tonight, let's prepare some pranks, okay?" he said, feeling his energy come back.

Ginny nodded eagerly.

"Yes. Let's!"


End file.
